


Point of No Return

by Miss_Black_Fox



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fairy Tales, M/M, Marriage, True Love's Kiss, but great story, like you wouldn't believe, so much Destiel, this crap is about to get real, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Black_Fox/pseuds/Miss_Black_Fox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes up in a strange place and finds he’s unknowingly wed the King of Hell. Castiel and Sam have only a few hours to save him. Nutritious crack with a healthy dose of Destiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point of No Return

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, a Supernatural fanfic! First posted on tumblr, I wrote this with a friend, Jedi Gallifreyan in two days! This was super fun to write and I hope you guys will enjoy this because this fic is a love letter to the fandom and all the Destiel fans out there.

Before Dean even opened his eyes he knew something was wrong. First, his pillow was all wrong. It was way too soft for the rocks that passed as pillows in most motels. The sheets were not the same. The fabric was light, and impossibly smooth to the touch. Also, he smelled damn roses in the air. When does a cheap motel room smell like flowers of any kind?

He opened his eyes, and all his suspicions were confirmed. He was not in the same room he went to bed in last night.

Instead of being greeted by puke green wallpaper, he was faced with red walls with--wait, was that gold trim? He glanced down at his bed, and saw that it was twice the size of the one he was in last night, and was covered in pale gold sheets. But where was Sam? A cold panic gripped him as he searched the lavish room of dark-wood furniture and plush chairs for his brother. Nothing, nadda, and he was so going to gank whatever freak did this.

Dean threw the sheets aside, and realized he wasn’t even in the same damn clothes. What the hell? Can’t a man go to bed in a T-shirt and sweats and wake up wearing the same thing? He frowned at the weird, and oddly soft, red pajamas draped over his broad shoulders. Looking on the bright side, at least he was still dressed.

There was a white door with intricate carvings of flowers and vines around the frame on the other side of the room. Dean marched towards the door, determination on his face. When he turned the brass handle it wouldn’t budge. Locked, great. With little patience left and no lockpicks he took the direct path of simply kicking the door down.

The older Winchester found himself in a long hallway, the walls the same color as the ones in his room. If the size and decor were anything to go by, this was a mansion, and an impressive one at that. Dean grabbed a candelabra from a table tucked neatly against the wall and held it up threateningly. It looked to be made out of silver, or at the very least silver-plated. He mentally reviewed the list of creatures vulnerable to the precious metal. Having a weapon, no matter how clumsy, went a long way towards calming him down.

“Sammy?” He called out, and paused. No response, “Sammy!” He tried again. Still nothing. If anything happened to his brother there would be hell to pay. Dean slowly made his way down the hallway, eyes darting to each door (all of them locked) and waited for something, anything to jump out. However, nothing happened, no monsters shouting “boo!” or some shit. There were two double doors at the end of the hall. Also, locked.

Seeing how he has forgone all subtlety, Dean kicked the two doors down with one well-placed foot and immediately ducked as a book came flying at his face.

“Dean?” It was Sam’s voice, sounding both surprised and relieved, from behind a sturdy wooden desk halfway across the room. Sam himself stood up, leaving his cover when he saw who had broken in. “Is that-- what are you wearing?”

“I don’t know! I woke up wearing whatever this is,” Dean said, motioning at his new clothes, “Where the hell are we, anyways?”

Sam made a helpless gesture then ran a hand over his face. “No clue. But whoever owns this place managed to get their hands on some incredibly rare books. I think that was a genuine copy of the Necronomicon that I threw at you. Uh, sorry about that, by the way.”

“The necro-what?” Dean said, before quickly realizing there were bigger issues to deal with. Like getting the hell out of here, wherever here is, “We need to get out of here before even weirder shit happens,”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Sam gave a last, longing glance at a first edition of The Lesser Key of Solomon before abandoning the literary treasure trove.

The boys didn’t even get out of the room before a familiar face met them at the doorway..

“Crowley,” Dean growled, and suddenly everything made sense, “Are you the one behind this? Because this is not cool! You do not take a man from the safety of his bed and steal his clothes! It’s damn creepy!”

“And a good morning to you too, love,” Crowley said, “I think red is a fetching color on you. Silk is much nicer than that denim,” he vaguely waved a hand in the air, “whatever you were wearing before. Honestly, if you’re going to be married to me you’re going to have to show some style,”

“Married? What the hell are you talking about, Crowley?” Sam’s jaw dropped and he turned to his brother. “Dean, do you know what he’s talking about?”

“Married?” Dean sputtered and spat like an indignant cat, only able to mouth incoherent words before managing to find his voice several seconds later. “Married? I’m married to you?”

“I know it wasn’t a classy wedding,” Crowley said casually, “But Vegas is a rather convenient place, not to mention cheap and quick. I promise that when we renew our vows we’ll do it in style. I’m thinking,” He paused, finger tapping his chin thoughtfully, “Red. A hell-themed wedding. Yes, I like that. We’ll find a nice red wedding gown for you,”

Dean continued his fit, raising the candelabra even higher as if it were made with pure iron and bathed in holy water. Dean didn’t care that it couldn’t hurt the demon, because why is he married to The King of Hell?! Sam couldn’t even muster up the will to vocalize his thoughts and stared, slack-jawed, between his brother and Crowley. Married. Please, God, Gabriel, Castiel, anyone, come tell them this was a twisted joke and he hadn’t heard the demon right.

“And Sammy boy!” Crowley said with a smile to Sam, his hands clasped together in front of him, “Impressive collection, isn’t it? Only the best for,” he paused, milking the moment, “my new son.”

“What?” Sam choked out a laugh. Now he knew he was crazy. No way this was happening for real. “I’m not your damn son. What the hell are you talking about? And don’t call me Sammy.

Dean, meanwhile, found a new thing to hiss over, “Son? Son? Start explaining. Now, Crowley!”

Crowley looked taken back, a hand placed affectedly upon his chest, “Why, Sammy boy, you were entrusted to me by your other father. Turns out feeding blood to a human gives a demon a claim to the human in question. I’m only following the last will and testament of a dead friend.”

Sam’s expression shifted, eyes narrowing and mouth pulling into an almost-snarl. “Don’t you dare talk about Yellow-eyes like he was my-- my father,” he hissed, leaning forward but still towering over the much-shorter Crowley.

“Yellow-eyes is dead!” Dean said, “He has no claim to Sam!"

  
“The demon blood begs to differ. But boys,” Crowley said with another one of his warm smiles that only proved to unnerve the boys further, “Why all this fighting? We’re a happy, loving family now. I think this is a relationship that will benefit all of us. So, let’s have breakfast, shall we?”

“I’m not hungry,” Sam said flatly. “Screw you.”

“You’re going to undo whatever you’ve done, Crowley,” Dean insisted. No matter what was going on, for whatever messed up and insane reason, this was going to end now.

“I had a lovely breakfast made up. Some oatmeal for Sammy, and pig in a poke for Dean. There’s even bacon--greasy, juicy bacon. Just for my boys,”

Dean’s stomach growled involuntarily. “What the hell, free food.”

Sam turned to Dean, a ‘what are you thinking, he’s a demon’ look on his face. And this wasn’t any demon, this was the king of demons and their enemy for years.

The older Winchester shrugged. “What? I’m hungry, he’s offering bacon, Sam. Bacon.”

“And maybe I can teach you boys what real food tastes like, none of that fast food trash you fill your stomachs with,” Crowley suggested, “Whatever you’re hungry for, Sam, I can make it happen,”

Sam threw his hands up into the air, “Fine, we’ll have breakfast.” The bacon better be good.

\-------------------------------------

Sweet bacon-y heaven. It was the best damn bacon Dean had ever tasted and it was only one of the many dishes served at what can only be called a breakfast buffet. The long table was stuffed to the brim with plates of waffles, pancakes, waffles with chocolate chips, whole chocolate pancakes with fruit toppings. There were bowls of yogurt, oatmeal, cereal, all in all just about every breakfast food imaginable and it was all delicious.

After Dean dived right into the medley of food Sam reluctantly took some oatmeal with a side of plain yogurt. He might as well eat, and everything did smell really good. Crowley had a strange plate of food before him, with a serving of what looked like black, jell-o pudding and a sausage patty.

“So, what’s that, baby sausage or something?” Dean asked around a mouthful of waffles, pointing at Crowley’s meal with his fork. “Never mind, don’t tell me while I’m eating.” 

“It’s black pudding, love. Made with pork fat and blood with onions and other things. Next time, do take care not to point with your fork,” Crowley said, and took a bite of the black pudding.

Dean wrinkled his nose. “Dude, I said not to tell me.”

“So,” Sam interrupted, “we’re here having breakfast with you, like you wanted. Now start explaining what’s going on, Crowley, or so help me I will find out if milk can be blessed like holy water.”

Crowley finished another bite of his meal, took his napkin to wipe his mouth, and finally spoke, “I thought you would have figured it out already, Sammy boy, and I will explain, but first,” And he looked to Dean, “A good morning kiss for your husband?”

Dean forced a grin and shook his head. “Hell no, I’m not kissing a demon. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that’s how you seal your little bargains. You are not tricking me into anything.”

“Playing hard to get after you’re married?” Crowley shook his head, but continued on, non-plused by the older Winchester’s response, “As I said, Azazel, or Yellow-eyes as you’re so fond of calling him, had a claim over Sammy. When he was, what’s that charming word you two use? Gank? Yes, when you ganked him, that claim was passed on to me, as per his wishes,” The King of Hell waited, letting the two to digest his words.

Dean’s eyes went hard and his grip on the silverware tightened. “Sam’s not your little pawn to pass around to whoever’s top dog in the Pit. Yellow-eyes, Azazel, whatever his name was, he’s dead. Sammy’s free of any so-called claim you black-eyed sons of bitches had on him. You leave him out of this or I kill you. End of story.”

“Yet his blood is still in Sam,” Crowley said with a pointed look to Winchester in question. Sam pointedly ignored said look in return, jaw clenched.

“What about this marriage, then?” Dean asked. If Crowley was in a talking mood then they were going to get all the answers.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Crowley said, “Every son needs a mum. Besides, you’re a wonderful parent, Dean. A natural born at nurturing. That, and the marriage isn’t complete until Dean finishes his transformation into a demon. Alastair gave you a good start, and I’m going to finish the process. I think you’d make a wonderful demon, Dean,”

“Now wait just a damn minute,” Dean shouted, “What do you mean, turn me into a demon?! I got out of Hell once, and you can bet the one who dragged me out will do it again. What the hell are you planning, Crowley?”

“Oh dear,” Crowley said as he looked down at the watch on his wrist, “Sammy boy is going to be late to his first day of class. Off to school, Sammy,” And with a snap of his fingers Sam was gone, leaving Dean alone with a powerful demon and supposed husband.

\--------------------------

Within the moment of an eyeblink Sam found himself back at his old campus, a layer of green grass below his feet, and normal people moving about their business or rushing off to one place or another. A sheet of paper, wrinkled and folded, lay in the pocket of his jeans, which turned out to be a class schedule picking up where he’d left off in his pre-law studies several years ago. Before Dean had come back and what happened with Jess... he shook his head. Now wasn’t the time for mourning his long-gone girlfriend, and ignoring the current situation in favour of sitting through lectures wasn’t even on the list of options. Dean was in serious trouble, and Sam wasn’t sure what he could do on his own. He needed to get his brother away from Crowley, fast. Alright, time to pull out the big guns.

It was time to call Castiel, angel of Thursday, and possibly the only one that could save their asses right now.

Sam shoved his class schedule back into his pocket and followed the familiar path to the school library. Inside he moved to the most secluded part, sat down at a table, and prayed.

  
“Cas, oh god, Cas, I hope you can hear me because me and Dean are in some deep shit right now. Crowley has Dean and--”

There was familiar rush of wind, the sound of flapping wings and Sam turned to find Castiel standing beside him.

“Where is Crowley holding Dean?” Cas practically growled. Sam blinked in surprise; he almost hadn’t expected the angel to respond, certainly not so quickly. It was always Dean who seemed to get prompt service, with answers to Sam’s calls coming almost as an afterthought.

Sam realized that Castiel was still staring intently with those unreadable blue eyes, waiting for an answer. “I don’t know. But that’s just part --”

“What was your brother doing when he went missing?” Cas tensed, brows lowering a hair and lips pulling into a thin line. Sam imagined that the angel’s wings, were they visible, would be half-spread and ready for a dive into Hell to rescue Dean (again).

“I think Crowley married him.”

Silence.

“This is not the first day of the fourth month in the modern Gregorian calendar, ‘practical jokes’ are ‘not welcome’,” Cas said after a moment, making air quotes with his fingers.

“I wish it was April Fools, Cas, but I am dead serious. Dean and I fell asleep at a motel in Ohio, and we woke up in this mansion with an incredible occult library. Crowley appeared and started going on about how he’d married Dean and old Yellow-eyes-- Azazel, I mean, had left me to him.” Sam swallowed before continuing. “Crowley also said that before the marriage could be completed, Dean had to be a demon. And that he’d pick up where Alastair left off. Then he sent me here, and I prayed for you as soon as I could.”

“Crowley must be stopped,” Castiel said, his gaze focused on some far off thing, “I will not let him turn your brother into a demon,”

“Better do something quickly, then. I don’t think Crowley’s going to sit around and chat all day.”

  
“We’ll need a way to cure the demon taint from Dean once and for all,” Castiel said, suddenly focusing on Sam again.

“How?” Sam snorted, “It’s not like we can just wave a wand or have, I don’t know, true love’s kiss magically cure him.”

“True Love’s Kiss,” Castiel said quietly, his gaze unfocused again, “Yes, that could work,”

“What?” Sam winced at the volume of his own voice and quieted down before attracting attention. “I was just kidding--that’s actually a thing?”

“We’ll need to do research,” Castiel said before vanishing, only to reappear moments later, arms laden with a collection of books. The angel set them down atop the table, the book on top held the title Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

\---------------------------------

Alastair. Fucking Alastair. Out of all the things the King of Hell could have done or said, he’d not just brought up Alastair, he’d talked about finishing what Hell’s head torturer had started. Dean bounced his foot up and down, half his mind paying attention to Crowley and the other half lost in memories of the Pit. He could almost feel Alastair’s cold hands on his shoulder. Everything that demon had done to him, and the only constants were pain and those freezing hands. Until he’d said yes, until he’d been utterly broken and picked up that knife. Then it was just the hands, patting his head or stroking his arm while that lisping voice whispered praise for his skill and creativity, and dammit I am not thinking about this any more. Dean forced his attention back to Crowley.

“And that,” Crowley said, taking another sip of his tea, “Was my day. And how was yours, love?” The King of Hell cocked his head to the side, and sounded genuinely curious, despite knowing full well how Dean’s day was going, being the cause of all his problems. They sat across from one another in a lush sitting room. The walls were decorated with old paintings of famous battles throughout history, the only light source were the large windows on the left-hand wall with light, airy curtains that billowed and ruffled against every invisible breeze.

“Peachy, just peachy.” Dean smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I woke up and found out I was married to the King of Hell. Amazing start to my day, let me tell you. And then I got an evil-looking book thrown at my head by my little brother, who is currently God only knows where. 

Crowley paused, “Not the Necronomicon?” he said, “That’s the original, very rare,”

“Yeah, well, whatever it is, it looked like something you don’t want to get hit with. And creepy, very creepy.” Dean crossed his legs and started tapping the other foot against the floor.

“Do stop that wretched tapping,”

“Bite me,” Dean mumbled, but stopped. He drummed his fingers on his knee instead because that nervous energy had to go somewhere.

“Kinky,” Crowley said with a smirk, though gave a thoroughly disapproving look at Dean’s tapping fingers, “But that, love, is for later. After all, there is still a marriage to consummate,”

Oh shit. Dean hadn’t thought about that yet. “Look, Crowley, you’ve had your fun, okay? Ha ha, you made Dean Winchester think he had the mother of all crazy nights and married a demon. Joke’s over. None of this consummation talk, got it? I don’t bat for your team.”

“You don’t?” Crowley said, brow raised, “Are you quite sure? Because I think I speak for everyone when I say that you and your little angel have some. . . chemistry.”

“Let’s get this straight. I am, uh, straight. I like having sex with women. Breasts are awesome. I am very not gay. And we are talking about something else now.”

“Awfully defensive about it, aren’t we?” Crowley said with a knowing look, “But if you insist, love. I actually have a wedding present for you,” And in one smooth motion Crowley set his cup of tea down, stood up and walked over to a dark, polished wood cabinet. He opened a smooth door, and pulled out a white box. “I have it on good authority that this is a favorite of yours,” And Crowley slowly opened the lid, revealing a perfect apple pie that Dean could smell even from the other side of the room, “Made in Switzerland, and crafted with love if the sign outside the shop is to be believed,”

“Tempting, but I’ll pass. Excuse me for not wanting presents from the guy who said he was going to turn me into a goddamn demon,” Dean snapped. Sure, the pie looked and smelled amazing, but Crowley’s threat was still hanging over his head.

“Being a demon isn’t all that bad,” Crowley said and he set the pie down on a coffee table before taking a seat in his chair again, “there are perks that come with being King of Hell, and of course perks for the Queen,”

Dean stopped his twitching and looked the King of Hell square in the face. “No. You’re not turning me into a monster, and I am not going to be your freaking Queen of Hell.”

“What, you’re not suggesting a divorce are you?” Crowley said.

“Yes, I want a fucking divorce, Crowley,” Dean yelled. “I am not staying here, and I am especially not staying married to you.” He flopped back in his chair. “That’s going on the list of strangest things Dean Winchester ever said.”

Crowley shook his head, “All you had to do is ask,” And with a snap of his fingers a rolled up contract on parchment appeared in his hands, “Well, let’s just work out who gets who, then, shall we?”

\----------------------------

Sam stared at yet another collection of fairy tales. “Cas, these are just stories, we’re not going to find anything in here besides a few old monster tales.”

“No, not stories, they’re accounts,” Castiel said. He was sitting at the table across from Sam, books piled up on either side of him and he was intently reading from an open page.

“Sure, there’s a kernel of truth behind the legends and folktales, but direct source material? No way.”

“These Grimm brothers were hunters,” Castiel said, eyes still glued to the passage, “These books, now labeled as ‘fairytales’ were once true accounts of encounters and hunts. These tales speak of the Devil many times, when really this Devil was just simple demons. These brothers, while unable to spread the truth, hid it in these tales as warnings.”

“Huh, should have figured that one out.” Sam shrugged slightly. Fairies were real, after all, it wasn’t too much of a leap to think that old stories had more truth to them than most thought.

“Magic and the Supernatural have changed over time,” Castiel continued, “Some creatures grow stronger, other’s weaker. Pagan gods were once very powerful beings, and now many live their lives in hiding. Magic and spells were more common place in earlier times. But what we need is True Love’s Kiss. Though, it seems these Grimm brothers weren’t too fond of it. They seemed to have think it was unreliable at best, and too impractical to use in most cases,”

“Right.” Sam cleared his throat and tried not to think about how absurd this whole thing was. “Even so, it seems like most of these stories has one lover rescuing another at some point, usually able to succeed in a difficult task because they were inspired or literally powered by their love. And the whole idea of a kiss having power had to come from somewhere, right?”

“Love is a powerful force,” Castiel said

“Yeah, but how do we tap into that to save Dean? I don’t think brotherly love is going to cut it here. All the really powerful displays of love were between, well, sex partners. Or at least people who had a full-blown romantic thing.”

“I’m not sure, we’ll need to find a Cupid,”

“You can just do that? Call up a Cupid? It’s a good idea, I guess, but we can’t exactly do a ritual in Stanford’s library,” Sam pointed out.

Castiel was quiet for a moment. He appeared to be listening to something, when he suddenly stood up, his chair falling back and before it even hit the floor with a loud thud the angel was gone. Sam flinched at the noise and grinned apologetically in response to the annoyed glares from other people.

A moment later Castiel returned, and he was not alone. With him was a homely man dressed in a cloth diaper and smiling shyly at Sam

“Hello,” The Cupid said, and gave Sam a little wave.

“Oh, god, Cas, what’d you bring him in here for? You can’t just walk around campus wearing that little!” Sam buried his face in his hands. The librarians would think this was some kind of weird fetish thing and ban him. He’d never be able to come here again without people laughing or staring. This was-- actually, diaper thing aside, it actually was pretty convenient that Castiel could grab a Cupid so quickly. Who else would be better to consult on matters of love?

Castiel tilted his head to the side, unsure what the problem was, “I found him near-by. This is an incredible stroke of luck,”

“I won’t be long!” The Cupid promised, though, his voice a tad too loud for the library, “Castiel told me about your problem and I know how to help!”

“Okay, then, tell me what you know. And keep your voice down, we really don’t need any more attention than you’ve already gotten. How do we get Dean away from Crowley?”

“Well,” The Cupid began before letting out a little giggle, “You’ll need to break the claim. Right now Crowley has a claim through part of Dean that was. . .well, demonized. And someone with a larger claim can break the previous one. That is what a True Love’s Kiss can do,”

“So it’s a way to override one claim with another. And assuming we can find someone who qualifies, is there anything special they’d have to do? Or is it enough to just kiss?” Sam asked eagerly.

The Cupid looked at Sam, perplexed, “Find someone? Why, you already have him! Castiel can break the claim with True Love’s Kiss,” The Cupid clasped his hands together and gave a dreamy sigh, “Castiel has a very profound bond with Dean, and that bond is more than enough to break Crowley’s claim.”

Cas nodded. “It is true. In order to retrieve Dean’s soul from the Pit, I had to join with it to an extent, put my mark on it. I believe you’ve seen the handprint it left on his arm, Sam.”

“You two have a special bond, that’s great, but leaving a nametag on someone’s soul doesn’t mean it’s True Love. You have to at least be attracted to each other for it to work. 

Castiel stared down at the floor, while the Cupid simply giggled, “Has no one really noticed, yet?” 

“...Oh.” Sam had to admit he’d seen the signs, but either ignored them or wrote off the soulful stares and and favouritism as an angel thing. God, his brother and an angel… well, he had to admit it wouldn’t be the first time. “I thought he didn’t swing that way,” he blurted out.

“I would do anything to save Dean,” Castiel said at last, and meant it. “If this is our only hope then I will do everything I can to make it work,”

The Cupid rolled his eyes. “Dear, there is such a thing as denial. I’m telling you, this is going to work, and it’s not like my whole job is matching people together!” He said, his voice rising once more, to the point that a librarian had taken notice.

“Well, that’s one part of the problem solved, Now we just need to find Dean and Crowley so you can do the whole True Love thing and we can all go home.” Sam’s voice came out a bit higher-pitched than normal as he tried to ignore the librarian’s wrathful gaze. “Actually, leaving right now would be a really good idea. C’mon Cas, let’s go.”

They left the table and turned around the corner of the nearest shelf. As soon as they were out of sight the Cupid left, and Castiel took Sam off campus. The librarian had followed them only to find empty space where they once stood.

\--------------------------------

Dean squinted at the never-ending lines of print on the divorce papers. Where was his nerdy almost-lawyer brother when he needed him? “I don’t even understand half this stuff, can’t you write it in English?”

“It is in English,” Crowley said, before reading off another line, “I get Hell, and one half of the moon. I know it’s not much but you can have the side the humans landed on if you want. I understand what a crowning achievement it was for your kind,”

“Great, never thought I’d be negotiating ownership of the freaking moon with a demon,” Dean said, still scanning the contract. “Wait, what’s this about a hellhound?”

“Oh yes, you get a pack of the hellhounds. I suggest keeping them well fed or else they get a tad touchy,”

“Well, Sammy always did want a dog. And no idea what I’m going to do with half the moon, but sure. I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Alright, now for Adam. As much as a joy it is having him and two angels locked up I think the poor boy could use some fresh air. And in return I get the Impala,” Crowley said cooly, like he were negotiating for the fine china.

Pure agony filled Dean’s face. “Come on, not my baby,” he pleaded.

“A brother for a car, I figured it was a fair trade,” Crowley said.

Dean closed his eyes and swallowed. He was not going to cry over a car. Not even if that car happened to be his beloved Impala. Family comes first, he reminded himself. “Okay,” he said sadly. “But Adam comes back intact. No monkey business. He gets some sort of protection against memories of being in lockup with two pissed off archangels. And if you so much as scratch my baby’s paint I will hunt you down and kill you.”

“Well, he’s spent quite a while in the cage, I can’t guarantee his mental condition, but I can certainly try. As for your car, I think a coat of red is quite necessary,”

“What’s this bit here?” Dean stabbed a finger at a paragraph further down the page, glad for an excuse to change the subject before he felt obligated to stab something. “‘Prior claims and or ownership, and only prior claims and or ownership, of the wife’s’” -  he paused and glared at Crowley - “‘wife’s soul will render the marriage null. If no other claimant comes forward within three days (seventy-two hours) after the completion of the wedding, this marriage is fucking permanent’? What the hell kind of marriage only allows for divorce within three days?” Dean thought quickly, trying to find some kind of exploit or loophole. “I already sold my soul once, does that count as a prior claim?”

“Demon marriages are tricky things, actually, they’re rather non-existent. I really had to dig to find the rules for this. And if I may point out that you sold your soul to a demon, who isn’t alive anymore, and then paid your dues,” Crowley said, “Besides, we’re getting the divorce, what more do you want?”

“A divorce that doesn’t cost me my car,” Dean mumbled.

“So you don’t want Adam back?” Crowley said, giving him a curious look, “I thought you Winchesters were always so keen on putting family first,”

“Yes, I want Adam back. Are you sure you don’t want the other half of the moon instead of ba-- my car?” Dean was grasping at straws. If it came down to it, family always came first, but the Impala was almost family too. As much as an inanimate object could be, anyway.

Crowley sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we take a break and you can think things over.”

Dean let a breath whistle out through his teeth in relief. “How long until I’ve got to decide?”

“Well,” Crowley said, “Considering you only have six hours until said three day grace period is up. . . I would say six hours,”

“What the fuck, six hours? The contract says three days!” Dean slammed a hand down on the table.

“Dear, it has been three days. You slept through most of it,”

Dean spluttered out a string of curses that sounded like one long word. Sammy, he thought, you had better be working on a way to get me out of this.

“Now, are you sure you don’t want some of that pie?” Crowley said with a charming smile, “I’d hate for it to go to waste,” And in the blink of an eye the pie was out of the box and on the side table next to Dean’s chair, complete with a cold beer and a fork.

\----------------------------------

 Cas had flown Sam back to the shabby motel room where they’d fallen asleep. Everything was untouched, down to the half-eaten pizza (which had the starting foundations of a mold colony) and open bottles of beer, now gone stale.

“How long were we gone?” Sam wondered aloud, rummaging through a duffle bag for one of the spellbooks they carried. There were plenty of Dean’s personal items around, so a tracking spell had seemed like the quickest way to locate the eldest Winchester. Hence the return to their motel.

 “I’m not sure,” said Castiel. He stood awkwardly next to Sam as he looked around, “A few days perhaps?”

“We’d better hurry then, Crowley’s probably got some sort of time limit hidden in the fine print. It wouldn’t be like him to overlook the whole True Love’s Kiss thing, but I doubt he can override it entirely. So limiting when it’s allowed lets him technically make it an option without actually risking much.”

 “Demons have been foiled by it before,” Castiel added.

 “All the more reason to hurry. If he knows it’s happened before, Crowley won’t take any chances.”

 “Do you have everything you need for the spell?” Cas asked, ready to fly off to gather whatever missing ingredients they needed.

 “I think so--wait, better use a world map in case Crowley decided to go international. Cas, can you get one?” Sam shoved the clutter off of an end table and started chalking symbols on its fake-stone surface.

 Cas vanished for several moments and he came back with an arm-full of maps, “I wanted to make sure,” he said in response to Sam’s skeptical stare. There was everything from world to state to local maps.

 “Wow, okay, um - it should still work if we use more than one. Let’s go with a world map and then one of the US too, just to be safe. This is a pretty powerful ritual, odds are it’ll show where Dean’s stashed.”

 “Unless Crowley has used magic of his own to block the spell,” Castiel said as he laid the selected maps out on the table, the others were dropped to the floor and out of the way until they were needed.

 Sam sprinkled bits of dry, grey herbs over the papers, then poured a palmful of road dust in the middle. “If he does, we’ll figure out a plan B. In the meantime, hand me Dean’s phone. It should be on the nightstand. It belongs to him and should have some DNA on it. Besides, we’ve had these for a few months now. Getting to be time for another number change.” He opened the old leather-bound book and set it beside the chalkmarks. “And who knows, Cas, maybe the simple solution will actually work for us this once.”

 “When has Crowley ever been simple?” Castiel said, though, he went and fetched the cellphone and placed it on the table. The angel was sure that the demon would do whatever it would take to keep Dean trapped in that parody of marriage. Though the demon’s intentions were lost to him, he knew that under no circumstances could Dean Winchester be allowed to turn into a demon. He would not let Dean become a monster.

 “We can hope, can’t we?” Sam said, looking Cas in the eye. “Look, I’m as freaked out as you are by this whole thing. But freaking out won’t find Dean. We track him down, you do your thing, and we’ll figure out the rest later.”

 Castiel stared down at the gathered items, “You’re right. We will save, Dean. Start the ritual,”

 Sam nodded and unsheathed a small knife. He’d done this so many times over the years that the cut across his palm barely registered as he read off the incantation and dropped a lit match onto the now-bloody cell phone. Flames spread out in a near-perfect circle, licking over the maps for several seconds before dying. Tentatively, Sam poked through the ashes, bumping the charred phone off to one side. “Cas, I think it worked.” He held up two scraps of unburnt paper. “All that’s left of the world map is some of the US, and the only remaining section of the US map is this part of Nebraska.”

 “Is there anything else?” Castiel asked, he stooped down, searching for a more detailed map of Nebraska, but came up empty-handed.

 “No, it looks like they’re in the middle of nowhere. Or possibly a town too small to show on a large-scale map. But it’s enough to go on, especially with some help from Google. Let me get a bandage on this and I’ll start.” Sam held his bleeding hand up and fumbled for some gauze.

 Castiel blinked, “Who is this Google? Is he summoned? Should I go find him?”

 “What? No, Google’s a search engine. On the internet.” Sam tried not to grin. “I just need my laptop.”

 Castiel nodded slowly, then said in all seriousness, “Ah, yes, the internet. I thought it was strictly for--well, you know,” It didn’t help that he learned of the internet when Dean logged on to the Busty Asian Beauties site.

 Sam nodded sympathetically. “Rule 34 sucks.”

 “There are rules to the internet?”

 “More like a description of how people act online. Rule 34 says that if it exists, there’s porn of it. If you’ve surfed the web with Dean, you’ve probably seen some freaky stuff.” Sam flipped open his computer, a few keystrokes bringing up Google Maps.

 “I see. . .” Castiel said, not sure he understood, “Well, consult this google, we do not know how much time we have left.”

 ------------------------------------

 Crowley pulled out an elaborate gold watch from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, “Only five minutes left, Dean, and then you’ll be mine forever. Just think about it, going back down to the Pit, torturing a few hundred souls; you were taught by the best of the best. Though I may not have Alastair’s charm and skill I know my way around a torture chamber,” The King of Hell smiled pleasantly.

 “Fuck you, Crowley,” Dean spat. “I lasted thirty years under Alastair, want to bet I can take more from you?”

 “Dean, do you ever think about what you say?”

 “Sometimes, when I’m not having my soul threatened,” he snapped back, fighting a surge of fear-induced nausea. He wasn’t going back under the knife. Cas would come charging in to save the day. Sam would show up just in time. Just this once things were going to turn out okay. They had to.

 Crowley tutted and walked over to Dean, though, he stayed just out of arm's reach, “You’ve lost, I won. Now, unless some sort of miracle can happen in the next, oh, four minutes I suggest you get comfortable and enjoy the ride,”

 “You know you’re going to have both my brother and a pissed off angel riding your ass if you go through with this.” Dean’s memories of Hell were sliding back up into his conscious mind, worming through the blocks he’d put up to keep them out. The faint stink of sulphur permeating Crowley’s mansion seemed to be growing stronger, or maybe it was just his imagination.

 “Do you seriously think they could do a thing to this marriage? You read the contract, in just a matter of minutes it’ll be permanent and no force of Heaven or Earth could break it apart. But don’t worry, love, Hell is nice this time of year.”

 “This isn’t a marriage. I never agreed to marry you, you son of a bitch!” Dean’s voice nearly cracked and for a moment he thought he felt chilly fingers brushing the back of his neck. He shuddered and the sensation retreated.

 “Well, in a short while that won’t matter because--” And Crowley paused, looking up and a moment later there was a swish of wings and Castiel and Sam appeared.

 “Cas, do it, now!” Sam shouted, training a shotgun loaded with rock salt at Crowley. It wouldn’t kill the bastard, but it’d hurt like hell and the demon knew it.

 “Cas?” Dean looked up, hopeful. “Cas, Sam, God it’s good to see--” He didn’t get any further because Castiel practically pounced on him, hands pressing down on his shoulders while the angel shoved their mouths together. Cas really needs to stop watching pornos, Dean thought, and then why the hell not and kissed back. In that instant a bright, blinding white light enveloped them both, the light so bright that the room was washed away, and both Sam and Crowley were forced to cover their eyes and look away.

 It wasn’t painful, the light, and Dean felt like he was wrapped in a warm blanket and a sense of peace came over him. The part of him that remembered hell was being brushed away, like waves that lapped at the sand on a beach, such a gentle cleansing. Then the moment was gone, the light, and warmth had faded away. Dean blinked, and stared into Castiel’s face.

 “Bollocks,” Crowley swore, his face twisted into indignation, “It’s Dublin all over again! Fine, keep your Impala and your brother, but I get everything else!”

 Cas ignored the demon, maintaining eye contact with Dean as the Winchester stood and sliding a hand through the hair on the back of the taller man’s head.

 “Not like I’m complaining, but what the hell was that?” Dean asked.

 Castiel hesitated for a moment, before sheepishly answering, “True Love’s Kiss,”

 “True Love-- oh, come on, I thought I said no chick-flick stuff!”

 “It saved your ass, didn’t it?” Sam said, shotgun still aimed at Crowley.

 Crowley frowned at Sam, “Is that really necessary? Foiled by True Love again, you’d think I would have learned my lesson the first time,”

 “No, it’s probably not necessary,” Sam said. “But it feels pretty damn good.” He pulled the trigger, sending rock salt flying. Crowley vanished before the salt could even reach him and the three boys were left alone in the lavish house.

 Castiel continued to stare at Dean, and for a moment it seemed like he was going to move in for another kiss before suddenly backing off, “I should get you two out of here before Crowley sends in his men.”

 “Hey, you’re not getting away that easy,” Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm. “I gotta ask, did you know that would work or were you just keeping your fingers crossed?”

 “The Cupid we asked said it’d do the trick,” Sam shrugged, pumping the shotgun’s action and sending a spent shell skittering to the floor.

 “The Cupid said that I had a stronger claim upon you,” Castiel said, though, he wouldn’t look Dean in the eyes, “From when I pulled you out of the Pit,”

 “Well, hey, thanks for saving me.” Dean looked like he wanted to say more, but threw a helpless glance at Sam. “You being here to watch this makes it about fifteen times more awkward, I hope you know that.”

 Sam smirked. “I get the hint, you want some alone time with your True Love.”

 “Shut up, Sammy.”

 “I think I’ll go check out the library again,” Sam said, and started towards the doors, “It might take me a while to get through all those books. Grabbing ones we could use, or send to Bobby. Who knows when I’ll be done.”

 “Yeah, you go do that. Nerd,” Dean called after his brother, then looked back at Cas. “I really mean it, thank you. Crowley, he had some pretty kinky stuff planned for the wedding night.” He tried to grin.

 “I would never let him do anything to you,” Castiel said, staring protectively at Dean yet looking so vulnerable himself. His blue eyes full of the potential pain he would have felt if he and Sam had been too late.

 “The feeling’s mutual, Cas. I’d have torn my way through whatever Crowley sent topside if it had been you stuck here.” Dean slid a hand through the angel’s dark, rumpled hair, echoing Castiel’s earlier gesture. “Just stop staring at me like someone kicked your puppy, okay?”

 “I’m sorry,” Castiel said, and broke eye contact right away, “I didn’t mean to. . .”

 “Cas, it’s fine, shut up.” Dean didn’t really know what else to say, so he leaned forward and kissed Castiel again. The angel only hesitated for a moment before he kissed back like the Pizza man had taught him, both hands going to the back of Dean’s head. It was perhaps a too enthusiastic display, but moderation was never a virtue of the angels.

 -------------------------------------

 Crowley thumbed through the pictures on his iphone. Cell phones were such handy things. He flipped past a certain picture of a certain Bobby Singer, to the really juicy pictures. Now, he honestly did not expect that extra bit of snogging at the end; it’ll be a nice added bonus. Now, once he finished with this current deal he can go and pay that Cupid for a job well done.

 “We’re here, did you keep your side of the deal?” A short redhead, apparently the spokesperson for the small group in front of Crowley, spoke up. Her voice was a bit shaky, but clear.

 “Of course,” Crowley said and held up his phone so that the group could see the picture of Dean and Castiel lip locked, “I even have some extras for you, free of charge,”

 A breathy collective of “Oh my God” came from the half-dozen (mostly female) people who’d arranged a meeting with the King of Hell, followed by an apparent division of opinion about the wisdom of posting those pictures on the web. The redhead rolled her eyes slightly. “Well, time to seal the bargain, I guess. Ten years in exchange for proof that Dean and Castiel are in love, you said?”

 “Exactly, though, you wouldn’t believe the amount of denial those two were in. Now, I don’t have to kiss all of you to seal the deal, unless you want to, or you could pick a representative, or two. I’m not too picky,”

 “I’ll do it, although watch out for that one.” The redhead gestured vaguely at another one of the girls. “She’s got a bit of a thing for you. Gotta say, Carver wrote you as quite the character. You’d be surprised at the fanbase.”

 “I’ve searched my name through Tumblr,” Crowley said before clasping his hands together, then gestured to them, “Now, let’s form a line, shall we?”

 --------------------------

 “Valentine, Nebraska?” Dean gaped at the road sign. “Crowley never does things by halves, does he.”

 “Apparently not,” Sam shifted the duffle bag full of carefully packed books to his other shoulder.

 Castiel stood off to the side, staring out at the city, “Are you ready to return to your motel room? I’m worried that Crowley may have sent some demons after us. The fact that he hasn’t is rather out of character of him,”

 “I say we pack up at the motel and--”

 There was a sudden rush of movement behind him and the three of them spun around in unison, and instead of a small army of demons there was just one person, Adam. Sam rushed forward to their youngest brother. Adam was out cold, but breathing and looked to be in perfect health.

 "Adam? I thought he was trapped in there with Michael and Lucifer, how’d he get out and who dropped him practically in our laps?” Sam asked, looking to Cas and Dean for answers.

 Dean stared at Adam in absolute shock, “I don’t believe it, he actually kept his word. Crowley said he could rescue Adam, and he did it,”

 Castiel stepped forward, and placed his hand upon Adam’s forehead, “He is alive and his mind is intact. How. . .”

 “It’s weird, but you know what they say about gift horses,” Dean said with a shrug. This was going firmly in his don’t-worry-about-it-unless-it-bites-you-on-the-ass file. Sam took off his jacket and folded it up to create a temporary pillow for Adam’s head. While Sam took care of their half-brother, Dean looked over at Castiel who had moved back to give the two some space.

 “Cas, you, uh, going to stick around for a while?” Dean’s tone was almost too casual, like he was trying to sound innocuous.

 “I can, if that is what you wish,” Castiel said.

 “Look, you don’t have to stay just because you think I want you to.”

 “Yes, we’d like to hang out with us for a while,” Sam said quickly and stood up to join the other two. “Who knows what Adam’s going to be like when he wakes up. And if Crowley does decide to send some flunkies, it’d be handy to have you around, Cas.”

 “Yeah, what he said.”

 “Very well, I shall ‘hang out’ with you two for a while,”

 “Good to hear that.” Sam clapped his brother and Cas on the back. “And if you two decide to book your own room at the next motel, I want you to know that I’m okay with your life choices.”

“Sam!” Dean shouted, and pushed his brother’s hand away, “I said no chickflick moments!”


End file.
